You're Alive
by Ael L. Bolt
Summary: Two short, linked fics. Both Doc and Marty get shot at separate times in canon, but what were they thinking at the time and what happened afterwards? First person POV.
1. Part I See You Soon, Marty

You're Alive  
By Ael L. Bolt

Rating: PG for swearing and violence  
Genre: General/Drama  
Characters: Marty, Doc  
Summary: Two short, linked fics. Both Doc and Marty get shot at separate times in canon, but what were they thinking at the time? First person POV.

Disclaimer: Back to the Future and its sequels belong to Universal Studios...although I REALLY want a DeLorean! Damn them for not making 'em anymore.

Author's Notes: I know there are a few individuals who believe in Marty/Doc slash, but I am not one of them. I've always thought their father/son dynamic was absolutely brilliant, and that's all you'll ever see from me. For those who like slash, I suppose I can't stop you from reading too much into this, but it was not intended to be such.

SPOILER WARNING: If you have not seen the first movie, do NOT read this fic until you have. Damos, this means YOU. :-P

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Part I – See You Soon, Marty

"I'll draw their fire!"

"Doc, wait!"

Thirty years ago, when I taped Marty's letter back together, I thought I'd be prepared for this. I purchased a bulletproof Kevlar vest at the beginning of the year, not knowing if I'd have time later in the year. Despite my caution, however, I'll be the first one to admit that I'm scared out of my wits.

Especially considering my damn gun isn't loaded.

The Libyan terrorist bares his teeth at me in a mocking grin, and I throw my gun away. If Marty was right... I stare down the barrel of the machine gun. Is this the end? Were my precautions enough?

The terrorist squeezes the trigger, and I feel like I've been kicked in the chest. Pain blossoms along my ribs, and I collapse to the pavement behind the truck.

"NO! BASTARDS!"

No, Marty! I told you to run for it! I lay still, and I hope to God the terrorists think I'm dead. I can hear Marty running around the front of the truck. The van tires squeal as they drive to the other side of the truck and abruptly the footsteps stop. My heart stops temporarily in terror for Marty's life. Have I accidentally caused something I shouldn't have? If Marty dies, I'll have created a paradox and lost a good friend to my own recklessness. Please, Marty, run...

Several moments pass before I hear the empty clicking of a jammed weapon, and Arabic curses flow from the terrorist's mouth. Marty's frantic footsteps start up again, and the sound of a car door slamming echoes across the parking lot like a gunshot.

Oh, bad analogy. Don't think about being shot. I still couldn't move if I wanted to; it still hurts and I can't breathe. From the corner of my eye I can see the DeLorean quickly picking up speed, with the Libyans close behind.

The engine revs louder, and flashes of blue light reflect off the pavement. There's a triple sonic boom, then a loud crash. Bon voyage...see you soon, Marty.

Footsteps come up behind me, and terror strikes. The Libyans have come back to finish me off! I'm so sorry, Marty...

"Doc! Doc!" A hand turns me over onto my back, and I force myself not to blink or react in any way. It doesn't sound like a terrorist, though...

"Oh, no..." a very familiar voice whispers in grief. It can't be...can it?

I blink and slowly sit up as quietly as I can. Sure enough, Marty is turned away from me, his shoulders shaking slightly as if he's crying. How did he make it here so fast? He must've seen me get gunned down – again, from his perspective. He thinks I'm dead...

Marty turns towards me again, and his eyes widen in disbelief. He even scoots back a few inches as if I was a ghost...and I suppose, to him, I very well might be.

"You're alive!" he says hoarsely, as if he can't believe his eyes.

Smiling slightly, I reveal my Kevlar vest. I feel a strange chill as I see the splashes of silvery metal that used to be bullets. If not for Marty's warning, those may very well have gone through my body.

"Bulletproof vest," Marty breathes in amazement. He reaches out as if to touch the bullets, but draws back again. "How did you know? I never got a chance to tell you."

I hand him the letter he wrote in 1955, and he glances at me suspiciously as he takes it. Go ahead, Marty...I know exactly what you're going to say, and I've had thirty years to think of what to tell you.

"About all that talk about screwing up future events, the space time continuum?" His voice wavers as he speaks. I suspect he hasn't fully realized what's just happened yet, because he's still eying me like I'm going to vanish.

I grin. "Well, I figured...what the hell."

Marty stares at me in surprise, and abruptly hugs me. The poor boy probably thought he'd never see me alive again, and I hug him just as tightly as he begins to cry again. "God, Doc," he chokes out, "the last week has been absolute hell. I thought..."

"I know," I say quietly. "I'm so sorry, Marty. I never meant for this to happen."

"You could've died," he sobs, and leans back to look up at me. "I've been having nightmares all week..."

"Well, I'm alive," I tell him. "Thank you, Marty. You saved my life."

For the first time since his return, he smiles slightly. "From the way you acted, I didn't think you _wanted_ to be saved."

"I was young and stupid," I admit. "I should've trusted you to make the right decision, and you did." I release him from the hug, and he helps me to my feet. I don't need the help, really, but if it'll make him feel better I'll let him do it. "Now then, where's the DeLorean?" I ask.

Marty grins sheepishly. "Ah, it stalled out just past the courthouse."

"Good thing it didn't do that right before you had to leave," I comment casually, and he smirks. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," he says. "Come on, let's go get the DeLorean before it gets towed away. Or stolen."

I pause, and look at him. Something about his tone... "Why would it get stolen?" I ask.

"I, uh, kinda forgot to shut the door," he says, laughing nervously. "And I think the keys are still in the ignition."

"Great Scott!" I exclaim, and set off at a run for the road near the courthouse. Marty follows after a moment, and it takes us a few minutes to reach the DeLorean. Thankfully, it looks like no one has tampered with the vehicle despite the door being wide open. "Well, it appears that everything is in order," I report to Marty, who is leaning against the side of the car.

My young friend sighs in relief. "Thank God. You know, you should really get that starter fixed before you try going anywhere in it."

"Probably a loose connection," I say, and peer under the steering wheel at the exposed wires. "Aha!" Twisting two wires together, I turn the key in the ignition and the engine obediently roars to life. "Get in, Marty. We'll swing by the mall, take my truck back to the garage, and get you home."

Marty walks around the front of the car and hops into the passenger seat. I can't help but notice that he suddenly seems to be moving more slowly, as if he isn't feeling very well. "Are you all right?" I ask in concern.

"Yeah, yeah," he replies, but he sounds a bit distracted. "Just really tired, I think. Didn't get much sleep over the past week, you know. That and I've been practically running on adrenaline all day, worrying myself silly over getting home and preventing you from...well..."

"I understand," I assure him as I put the DeLorean into first gear. "I definitely can't say I blame you. At least you don't have school today."

"Yeah," he agrees wholeheartedly. "It's just so good to be home again. What do you think we would've done if it hadn't worked?"

"No use dwelling on 'what if' scenarios," I say firmly. I don't want to admit to him that I probably would've kept him confined in my mansion until 1985 to keep him from further disrupting the timeline. Come to think of it... "That reminds me, Marty. Have you noticed any differences whatsoever since your return? Your very presence may have made some changes to what you knew before."

Marty grinned a bit sheepishly. "Ah, well, the mall used to be Twin Pines Mall."

"Twin Pines?" I repeat, glancing at him in confusion.

"I kind of ran over the second pine after crashing into Old Man Peabody's barn," the teen admits. "He got this crazy idea I was a space alien and was shooting at me, and I couldn't see where I was going until I'd already killed the tree."

I can't help but laugh at the thought. "So _you_'re the reason why he kept ranting about aliens in his barn. I'd wondered about that. But other than that, you haven't seen any discrepancies?"

"Nah. I don't think I really did anything else that could screw up the timeline, besides making Biff crash into a manure truck. And making my parents meet under entirely different circumstances, of course."

We arrive at the mall once more, and I carefully place the box of plutonium in the trunk while Marty retrieves his skateboard. "Marty, would you mind driving the DeLorean back to my place?" I ask. "I know you're tired, but I need to take the truck back before trying to go to the future again."

"Yeah, no problem," the teen agrees, and quickly takes the wheel. It doesn't take long for us to get back to my garage. "It's kind of weird, not seeing that mansion of yours anymore," Marty muses as I resume my place in the driver's seat. Einstein jumps up on Marty's lap but the teen doesn't seem to notice much.

"Not as strange as spending the past seventeen years watching you grow up and knowing this would happen to you one day," I counter with a small smile. "I was scared to death that I would befriend you at the wrong time, creating a major paradox. Apparently things worked out for the best."

"Yeah," Marty agrees as we turn off onto his street. "Everything's back to normal. It's great."

I bring the DeLorean to a stop right outside of his house, and he gets out. "About how far ahead are you goin'?"

"About thirty years," I say with a grin. "It's a nice, round number." And turnabout is fair play, I tell myself. At least he'll be forewarned of my arrival through his own past. See you soon, Marty.


	2. Part II Recurring Themes

Part II – Recurring Themes

"Listen up, Eastwood! I intend to shoot somebody today and I'd prefer it to be you. But if you're just too damn yella, I guess it'll just have to be your blacksmith friend."

"Forget about me, Marty, and save yourself!"

Damn, I can't believe this is happening. Whoever would've guessed that some wild gunman would be holding Doc at gunpoint to get me to fight him? Come on, McFly, think...there's gotta be some way to get out of this without leaving Doc to die!

"You got one minute to decide. You hear me runt? One minute!" Buford yells as I turn away from the window. One minute? Hell, I can't come up with...

...wait a second.

For some reason I'm reminded me of the movie I saw Biff watching in the Hell Valley alternate reality. In A Fistful of Dollars, Clint Eastwood used a makeshift bulletproof vest to trick his opponent into thinking he's dead. There's a stove door lying on the floor a few feet away, and I snatch it up. Perfect!

I look around frantically. There's gotta be something I can attach it with...yes! There's a coil of twine on a shelf. I gotta move quick, or Doc's a goner. I tie the twine around the hinges of the little metal door and tear off my tunic, looping the rope over my neck so that the door covers my upper chest. That should be enough...I hope. I hide it under the shirt again, but I can hear Buford talking from outside. "Time's up, runt!" he bellows.

I gather all my courage and step out into the street. Buford faces away from me, muttering something to Doc as he lifts his gun. "Right here, Tannen!" I shout, and the dirty jerk whirls around to look at me. Doc looks horrified at my apparent suicidal attitude, but I don't dare give him any hint of what I'm planning.

Buford's gang drags Doc off to the side of the road, and everyone clears a wide path between me and Mad Dog. He smirks darkly at me across the dusty road. "Draw," the gunslinger growls.

I only hesitate for a moment. I could shoot; he doesn't have any protection from bullets...but... "No!" I reply. The crowd murmurs, and Buford looks stunned at my refusal. Hoping to make Buford even more overconfident, I reach down and unbuckle my gun belt, dropping it to the dirt. I swallow hard, hoping this isn't the biggest mistake I'll ever make in my life. "I thought we could settle this like men!" This could be the last thing I ever say...

Buford stares at me in astonishment, then grins evilly. "You thought wrong, dude!" Almost faster than I can see, he draws his gun and fires.

I can't help but flinch as the bullet slams into my chest, right over my heart. The force of the impact knocks me over backwards, and I hit the hard-packed earth with a loud thud. I quickly close my eyes and try not to breathe too noticeably – which isn't too hard, since my chest hurts so badly. I feel like I've been hit by a car again. I wonder if Doc felt like this in 1985...

I can hear disappointed and frightened reactions from the gathered crowd as Buford arrogantly swaggers forward. "Ah, thank ya," he drawls as he gets closer. I crack my eyes open slightly to see him standing over me, gun aimed somewhat in my direction. His face, however, tells me that he thinks I'm definitely down for the count.

Hah! Nice try, mud-for-brains. In one swift move, I kick the gun out of his hand and leap to my feet. Buford's expression is absolutely priceless before it darkens in fury. The bastard lashes out to punch me – and howls in agony as the bones in his hand crunch painfully against the stove door. Over his hunched shoulders, I can see Doc, who looks simultaneously ecstatic and astonished that I'm alive and unharmed.

While Buford staggers in pain, I reveal my homemade bulletproof vest and detach it. Buford's eyes narrow as he sees his bullet smashed into it, and he lets out a cry of anger as he lunges at me. Acting entirely on instinct and slightly startled by his sudden move, I swat him in the face with the metal door. The crowd lets out a cheer as Buford is knocked silly, and I throw my makeshift weapon to the ground. Buford may be an asshole but I figure he deserves a fighting chance...sort of.

With only a few punches, Buford is unconscious and facedown in a manure wagon. My knuckles are stinging slightly, but damn, it feels so good. "That was good," my ancestor Seamus agrees from the sidelines, grinning at me.

The deputy rides up and Buford's gang flee. I can't help but laugh when I see Doc deliberately trip one of them, and he rushes to my side as I pull out the photo of the tombstone. "Look!" he exclaims as the tombstone fades.

"Yes!" I cheer. Thank God, we both survived that. Now, to go back to 1985...oh shit!

Doc seems to realize the same thing, and we hear the train whistle in the distance. "The train!" he exclaims.

"Can we make it?" I ask anxiously as we run for our horses. Shit, if this doesn't work, we'll both be stuck here forever...

"We'll have to cut it off at Coyote Pass," Doc decides as he easily jumps up into the saddle. It takes me slightly longer, as I'm not used to riding horses. At all.

"Hey mister! Mister Eastwood!" I look down to see a young boy holding my gun belt. He lifts it up to me. "Here's your gun, mister!"

I grab the gun, even though I have no idea what I'm going to do with it. Mom and Dad will never let me keep it... "Thanks, kid," I say anyway. Suddenly I get an idea, and look over towards the saloon. Seamus is standing there with a smile on his face, and when he sees me looking back he makes a punching gesture. I smile. "Seamus!" My ancestor looks pleasantly surprised as I lightly toss him the gun belt. "Worth twelve dollars, never been used," I tell him, and he smiles.

"Maybe I'll trade it for a new hat," he calls to me. It's almost too bad I have to go...I've become rather fond of my ancestors, and I'm never going to meet them again. What do you say to someone who's been dead to you for a hundred years?

"Right, and take care of that baby," I say spontaneously. Doc gives me an odd look at the last part, but I can only shrug and urge my horse forward. The beast rears slightly, but obligingly takes off.

Seamus' cry of "I will!" reaches my ears, and Doc and I spur our horses to greater speeds.

"Marty, that was amazing!" Doc exclaims as our horses gallop out of town. "I thought you were dead for sure! Where did you come up with such a daring idea?"

"Well, from two places, actually," I admit, glancing at him. "One was from you, with that stunt you pulled with the Libyans. The other place was actually the alternate 1985. Biff was watching A Fistful of Dollars when I interrupted and asked about the almanac, and it just happened to be that scene. I had no idea if it would really work though."

"Marty, you will never cease to surprise me," Doc declares. "You about gave me a heart attack when you dropped the gun. You could've been killed!"

"Coulda been killed when I jumped off the twenty-seventh floor in Hell Valley, too," I reply, ducking under a low branch. "Let me tell you, I'm sick of people shooting at me." Mentally, I count them off to myself. First, there was Old Man Peabody in 1955, when he thought I was an alien. Second, in the alternate 1985, with Biff trying his best to murder me. Thirdly, just now with that Buford jerk. Hopefully I don't add more to the list of recurring themes I'm seeing throughout my time travels.

"Once we get back to 1985, I doubt the trend will continue," Doc assures me, and he sounds...amused? "But first we have to actually get there!"

Our horses crest the top of the hill, and I can see the train puffing along, its passengers oblivious to what's coming. "Ready to hijack – I mean borrow – a train?" Doc asks with a smirk.

"Yeah, I'm always ready to break the law," I shoot back, rolling my eyes. "But when I get home, I'm staying in the house and going _nowhere_ for a week!"

The End


End file.
